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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23146570">don't touch my hat</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickenfree/pseuds/chickenfree'>chickenfree</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, M/M, clothes sharing but it's clothes fighting now</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:23:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23146570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickenfree/pseuds/chickenfree</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t think it is your shirt,” he says.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dan Howell/Phil Lester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>don't touch my hat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight_radio/gifts">midnight_radio</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Phil stares down at the bag in his hands, open-mouthed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think it is your shirt,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Phil, you’re donating</span>
  <em>
    <span> my</span>
  </em>
  <span> shirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is this your shirt? It’s – it doesn’t look like your shirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bought it,” Dan says. “I remember buying it. You didn’t buy it, so that’s my shirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil drops the bag on the floor with a huff. He digs out the offending shirt, holding it up so Dan can see that it’s not his shirt. He flips it around a few times, grabs a brightly colored corner and waves it in Dan’s direction with a look of triumph.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dan rolls his eyes. “I told you a million times I don’t mind that color.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil flips it over again, squinting at the tag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It says it’s from Topman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> bought it from Topman when I bought your birthday present.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not how birthdays work,” Phil mutters. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth for a minute, stubbornly glaring at it. “I’m supposed to get the presents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just give me my shirt back,” Dan says. “Since it’s, again, legally my shirt that I bought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never wear it,” Phil says. “You said we should donate everything we don’t wear so we can fit it all in like, one suitcase, for some reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dan’s pretty sure that’s not how he phrased that particular argument, but, well – whatever. Phil hears what he wants to hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think,” Dan says, slowly, “that I actually I don’t wear it because </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>were wearing it all the time and then you hid it in your side of the closet for two years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a lot of things in the way,” Phil says, voice dropping into a mumble like he knows exactly how Dan is going to take that excuse. “Like, on top of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sock monster got it, huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil nods a little, still staring at the shirt in his hands. “How come you never said anything, if it was your shirt?” he finally says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno. It just seemed like you liked it so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil looks up at that, forehead crinkling. “That’s so sappy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dan’s suddenly bowled over by how much he loves this absolute clown, even if he’s on the verge of giving Dan’s fifth-favorite shirt away and having a tantrum about whether he’s allowed to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, alright,” Dan says, trying to bite back his smile. “Maybe it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross. Are you really gonna wear it?” Phil asks, whine creeping into his voice. “Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wear it? Or is it just going to live in the back of your closet now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I’ll just put it back in yours for safe keeping. Since you’d never find it,” Dan says. He steps closer, pressing a kiss to Phil’s forehead to distract him while his clumsy hands try to extricate the shirt. He ends up with it in one hand, but with Phil’s long fingers tangled around one wrist and an arm trapping his middle. It’s like wrestling an octopus, sometimes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Dan says softly. “Can I keep it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Phil nods, curling in even closer, warm against Dan’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry I stole your shirt,” he says, finally. “Can I pay the rental fees in cool rocks?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Much love to Andrea Midnightradio for accidentally prompting this and to Cat for betaing because I refuse to proofread today. &lt;3</p><p>Come find me at <a href="https://chickenfreeblog.tumblr.com/">@chickenfreeblog</a> where we might just be talking about PJ Vogt for some reason.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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